Faded Shadows
by bkwrmnlvnit
Summary: Riley has always been mute, living in books to escape the harshness of the world around her, and when an accident throws her unceremoniously into the League's story, she has to find a way to adapt and survive. But when she finds that, in her new reality, she's being woven tighter into their story and out of her own, she will have to decide between two lives where she truly belongs.
1. Silence

**Alright, folks, I'm back again with this story, completely rewritten. I'm working on later chapters now, but for now, you can have the first chapter. I'm sorry it took so long, and to the readers of the original, I extend my sincerest gratitude for following it, putting up with the sporadic updates, and still caring enough about the story to hunt this one down and try again. Y'all are amazing. As in the previous one, the majority of the story is rated for occasional language, violence, and the mentions of occasional alcohol use - nothing explicit, as usual. There will be one chapter way later in the story rated for much stronger stuff, but we'll burn that bridge when we get to it. This first chapter doesn't really have much to do with the League, admittedly, but as in the last story, the League is coming next chapter. So, without further ado, the remake of Fade. I hope you all enjoy it as much as you seemed to enjoy the original.**

It never ceases to amaze me how easy it is for the silent to become invisible.

I don't speak. Never have, probably never will. My mom says she remembers me talking all the time when I was younger, but all I ever hear when I look back at my past are the words of the others - the sounds of my parents talking at the table, of the cars flying down the streets, of the gentle whisper of tree leaves fluttering like butterfly wings in the wind. Everything makes noises except me.

For the first eleven years of my life, no one noticed, or if they did they didn't care. But once we hit sixth grade, all my friends abandoned me. When I'd go out on the driveway to shoot some hoops and would hold up the basketball questioningly, the kids next door would share a look and shake their head, making up some excuse as to why they couldn't. I'd go to school and write out messages on one of the pieces of paper I always carried with me in a journal to talk to the people who sat next to me, and be rewarded by them turning away. When I'd raise my hand to write out an answer, I was conveniently skipped over by teachers.

Eventually, I disappeared almost entirely from everyone's vision. And when no one sees you, you start to become invisible to even yourself, start forgetting that you're worth seeing at all. Even to yourself, you disappear.

Take it from me. I did.

The summer everyone forgot about me, I took up reading. I mean, I'd read a lot before, but I'd always had other things to distract me. But when the only thing you hear is the kids down the street laughing without you as you bounce a basketball alone, the activity loses some of its charm. With my social calendar – what little had ever existed of it – successfully cleared, I filled the time by working against the backlog of books on my list of future reads. I'd find a quiet corner, take out my latest conquest, and disappear for a while into the words, where I could forget that I wasn't an adventurer, could forget that I didn't speak and didn't stop apocalypses and save the day.

I enjoyed forgetting, to say the least. Reading was silent – an activity where quietude was the norm and being a bystander was acceptable. No matter how many times I stood on silent sidelines, the stories never rejected me like the world had, and instead they fed my need for all the adventures I would never have. I breathed in the typed ink like it was air, because to me it was. When ninety-nine percent of everything you know is stripped away, you cling to the one percent that remains, because losing it means you lose yourself. I knew that, and so I held on to the one thing I had left that I knew, the one thing that I loved. I had to.

The library became my home, more than even my real one. Half the time, my parents probably didn't even notice if I was there or not anyway. I'm not entirely sure that they even cared.

And so it was that I disappeared. Over time, I faded into invisibility, and once that happened, no one noticed anything I did anymore. And by the time they remembered that once upon a time, there had been a mute girl named Riley Carson, I had forgotten why it mattered and become transparent to even myself.

By the time they started looking, it was too late to find me again.

* * *

The day that they tried to find me again, I engaged in my favorite activity: taking up a semi-permanent residence in the silent area of the library.

School had let out early then for the last day of sophomore year, and the section I sat in was even more sparsely populated than usual. Without the usual crowd of students who had been cramming for finals and desperately trying to type out their last essay of the year over the last few weeks, there were only a few seats occupied, all of them by regulars. The woman with the bags sat in her own corner, drawing designs aimlessly on the table, not making eye contact with anyone as she stared into open space. Two tables to the left, in front of the third full sized window that threw light onto this section of the library, a backpack with electronics spilling out of it was thrown on the table, its owner sprawled in the windowsill with a handheld system two inches from his face. A business man sat with his coffee, pecking at computer keys on the next table over, and another younger girl sat artfully sketching out animals and fantasy scenes, pencil twisted up into inky hair.

I was sitting alone in my usual corner, and enjoying it. On the table in front of me sat three books – one I'd already finished since coming here, two that I'd checked out the last time and was still working on, along with the fourth that I held in my hands and had read all but the last thirty-two pages of.

I was working on rendering the situation of the remaining pages when Will showed up. With messy brown hair, a longish face with a square jaw, and bright green-grey eyes that hid behind thick-framed black glasses, he was a tangle of long, pale limbs, looking about as awkward as I felt. Taking the headphones from over his ears and hanging them around his neck, he grinned at me, pulling a journal out of his backpack and sitting down. I smiled, marking my page with a finger and turning to him.

Messy, familiar handwriting scrawled out a message on the notebook page. _Hey, Riley. How are you? Been here a while?_

Nodding, I took the pen to scribble out a reply. _A couple hours or so. Last day of the school year, so they let us out early since finals were done. I'm just glad it's over. _Reading over my shoulder, he gave an understanding nod of his head. I had explained a long time ago exactly why I didn't enjoy my time in social settings these days, and he'd understood the concept surprisingly easily, taking it in stride. _More time for reading, _I wrote, and he grinned.

_Better slow up, _Will replied in his writing. _Otherwise the library will run out of books for you to eat. Then you'll have to try your hand at game programming again. _

I smacked him playfully. _The last time didn't go that bad. _

He raised an eyebrow. _That game character only got completely back to normal two weeks ago. You coded him to twitch three months ago. _At that, I had to shrug. He did have a valid point, though in my defense, the bug that had caused the twitchiness had been placed there on accident.

_Anyway, _he continued, _enough about that. Got a book you might enjoy. _ He noticed my grin and responded in kind, pulling a copy out of his backpack. It was a paperback, relatively thin. On the cover, the letters _LXG _were printed in a raised silver font over the shadowed faces and forms of seven individuals.

I looked up at him, raising an eyebrow. Quickly, he scrawled out a message again, flipping the paper so I could read it. _It's crazy. It's basically this insane alternate version of the nineteenth century where they've already got tanks and machine guns, and there's this nutcase trying to start a world war with an arms race. So this nutcase_ – the last word was scribbled out – _sorry, anyway, this guy, he summons up seven people to help fight this guy off and prevent a world war, called the League of Extraordinary Gentlemen. Even though there's one chick. Maybe it should have been League of Extraordinary Badasses, since that's gender neutral? I don't know. Anyway, all the characters are from a bunch of different classics, so I think you'd like it._

I nodded slowly, looking at him and examining the book. It didn't seem too long, and it seemed like an interesting enough read. Plus, Will's recommendations tended to be of exactly the kind of book I wound up enjoying, regardless of how strange they sounded initially. Being about the only person who seemed to enjoy socializing with me since we'd met three months after I'd started disappearing, at the start of sixth grade year, he knew me better than almost anyone, including my parents.

_Alright, _I wrote. _I'll bite. Once you return it, I'll read it. I'll be done with these by then._

Will shook his head. _No. You've got to read this one. It's amazing – you're going to love it. Besides, you can borrow my copy. I've got three weeks to get it back here, and I know it won't take you that long, given your track record._

I gave a silent laugh at that and nodded, taking the copy and putting it on my stack of books. _Alright. Thanks._

Will nodded. _Now, with that out of the way, you want to go hang out somewhere else? My hand's starting to cramp, I forgot my laptop, and I have writer's block. Besides, end of our school years – might as well celebrate with food. Ice cream sound good?_

_Your treat, _I wrote back, grinning.

Will sighed.

* * *

"Man, that place was empty," he said as we headed out the front door, my bag banging against my side and his slapping against his shoulder blades. "I guess I somehow forgot that ninety percent of the people who have been taking up our space over the past month and a half aren't usually there. At least it's open again, though."

I nodded, bracing the notebook against my arm as we walked. _Yeah, true. I was getting a bit put off by the intruder parade, especially since I know most of them. I mean, I get that we're all silent in there, but seriously. All those people are kind of strange to be around in my favorite place, since I'm always running into them in my least favorite place. _

Will gave an understanding smile. "I get that. Luckily enough, you don't even have to see them for a few months. And then you have another couple of months before the finals rush. And maybe by then they'll find another place to haunt instead of that library. Which would definitely be good. I mean, I'd feel bad for whoever got them instead since the people you get stuck with in school are pretty much trolls and I don't think half of them are even literate given how inept they are at usage of library materials, but at least our library wouldn't be inundated."

I had to grin at his description, laughing noiselessly. Though maybe a bit harsh, it was at least true. The number of people who had flooded in over the recent times with little to no knowledge as to how to even use the website to look up books had walked the border between irritatingly common and absolutely ridiculous. The librarians had all been a somewhat scattered mess trying to keep up with the times, though they'd managed to make it through another season.

_You know what they say, _I wrote, _better them than us._

Will chuckled a bit in agreement before switching topics. "Anyway, where are we off to? Any preference?"

I shook my head. Though I had encountered numerous people over time who claimed that one brand or store was infinitely superior, I'd always found ice cream to be just that – ice cream. It tasted the same regardless of origin.

"Didn't think so," Will laughed. "Duke's it is then."

After a wait that took twice as long as the walk to get there – evidently, everyone else had had a similar idea for end of the year celebrations – Will and I were sitting on a park bench about ten minutes away from Duke's, holding two cones of ice cream that had already started melting.

_To summer, _I traced on Will's arm.

"To freedom from idiots," Will responded, gently tapping his cone against mine and leaving a smear of chocolate syrup and strawberry ice cream behind.

With a grin, the both of us set in, faces leaned back to stare at the blue silk sky. Wisps of feathery clouds drifted past, sun scorching one side of my face lightly, and I almost smiled at the quiet peace. Reaching a hand over, I tapped Will, writing on the bench without looking down. _This is nice. Thanks._

Beside me, I felt him shrug. "Don't mention it. I mean, summer, right? The last normal one. We may as well remember it." I nodded my assent silently. Somehow, I'd forgotten again that he was going into senior year in a few months, and I made a mental note to start planning for graduation. Seeing as how he was both my best and only friend, I had to do something.

_Valid point, _I wrote on the bench. _Excited to be done? Ready to graduate?_

Will let out a choked laugh, his response so fast it was almost comedic. "_No. _I mean, I still have no idea what I'm doing after I graduate, and my Mom's already getting all twisted about her baby growing up, and she keeps talking about me in this stupid gooey way. Half the time she talks in past tense, too, and it's just an enormous mess. And then Mr. Hyde – no, that's not his real name, he's the principal but half the time he's bearable and half the time he's a dictator and his assistant isn't any better – already asked me about speaking at graduation because as far as English grades go, I'm a unanimous valedictorian, and just _no. _I've got almost a year before it actually happens and the idea of graduation already makes me sick." Beside me, he ran his hands over his face and groaned.

Smiling a little, I gave his arm a squeeze. _You'll be fine. If you can talk to someone like me, you can talk to a bunch of people like you._

Will shot me a strange look. "People like me? Try again. There are very, very few people in that crowd that are anything like me. It's all a bunch of jocks and cheerleaders and cliquey clichés. I mean, maybe you disagree, but I don't think any of them are like me."

_Maybe not in personality, _I wrote. _At least they talk though. They'll be able to cheer for you._

To that, Will just sighed. "Yeah. I know. They'll also be able to laugh later at how epically I screwed up. I'll probably stutter or puke or something, ruin the whole ceremony."

Lightly, I punched him in the arm, earning a resentful look. _Hey. You'll be fine, _I repeated again.

"Yeah. Sure. Hey, you're going to be there, right?" Will asked, watching me. At the look I gave him, he seemed somewhat flustered. "It's a serious question. I want to know."

Once again, I punched him lightly. _Of course I'll be there. No other preferences. Besides, I owe it to you, as thanks._

Will smirked a little a that. "Good. I just wanted to be sure."

The silence returned then, this time for about twenty minutes. While I pulled out my book from before, Will continued to stare up at the sky. The steady sound of breathing and pages turning tinged the air with a sort of peace, until my book was shut and replaced, and I tapped Will.

_Another one down, _I wrote, this time in the notebook. _Onto LXG now._

Will flashed me a grin. "You'll love it," he told me. Nodding, I opened the book to the first page, but was stopped before I could start. Once again, it was Will.

"Hey," he asked. "You have any idea what time it is?"

I paused to check my watch, flashing it at him and writing on my wrist. _4:03._

"Aw, _crap,_" he muttered, hurriedly standing up and throwing all his belongings together in a somewhat deranged attempt at order. "Mom's going to kill me. She wanted me home at 4:15 so we could take Jackie out to dinner before her big show. I have to go. Catch you tomorrow?" His voice was laced with hope, and I nodded, shooing him away. Flashing a grateful smile, he turned and started running.

I watched until he left around the corner entirely, smiling to myself. It figured that he was late again. In four and a half years, I could think of few times when he hadn't been late. As he disappeared, I waited a few moments before standing up myself. If he wasn't here, there was no point in being in such a public and exposed setting. Packing up everything but LXG, I opened the book and, multitasking, started the walk home.

As it turned out, Will had hit the nail on the head again. Instantly, my attention was grabbed and swept away by the story, my mind falling into it without any trouble. Walking down the sun baked streets, it did exactly what I needed it to do. It made me forget.

On autopilot, I maneuvered the streets, checking for traffic in the rare moments when I let myself breathe, cautiously avoiding the passerby. It was my usual peripheral attention, the same I paid to the surrounding world at all times when I had a book.

In some ways, then, I suppose what happened next was my fault.

I only remember brief snapshots of the next few minutes.

I had pressed the crosswalk button with an absent mind, listening until traffic stopped. Throwing a look up, I trooped off across the street at my usual pace. It was perfectly safe.

It still wasn't enough.

There were no screeching tires. There was no sound at all, really, no hint of danger. Just echoes, the wind, and the birds. Nothing worth noting. I didn't look up.

Until a horn shattered the silence. My head shot up, fingers slipping from their holds on the paper, and I looked towards the source of the noise. Barrelling down the street which had been empty a breath before, a red car screeched towards me, sunlight glaring off an immaculate hood as I stood in paralyzed fear.

The car connected with a crunch. For a moment, I was flying.

Then the asphalt rushed up to meet me.


	2. New Destinations

**Howdy, y'all!**

**So, my muse is being rather charming at the moment. I tried to work on this story, and it gave me five new stories in a totally different fandom. Sigh...But I was eventually able to make it work, and so here's the next chapter of this story. The next chapter is likely to have some moments in it as well from Riley's life in the real world, as well. They were going to be in here, but they just didn't wind up getting worked in as expected, so you can look forward to them in the next chapter. My absolute sincerest thanks to all of my reviewers, readers, and followers, and I will see all of you at a later date when I post again with more of the story (even if my muse sidetracks me on fifteen different stories along the way, XD) Hope you enjoy, and if you get a chance, please leave a review and let me know what you think! See y'all later.**

When the darkness finally peeled away, it was replaced by the pain.

A dull ache weighted down my limbs, every muscle feeling as if I'd just run a marathon and then gotten a cheese grater massage, and when I moved, all actions were slow, disjointed, and agonizing. Several times, the world threatened to fall out from underneath me, and I had to pause, blink hard, regain my breath and my stability. Eventually, I managed to work into a sitting position, leaning heavily against the nearest object. It wasn't much, but it was an improvement on being face down on what felt like a wood floor.

Around me, the world slowly began to fade into existence, though it didn't get any brighter. I was surrounded by the silhouettes of what looked like it could have been some kind of furniture, though the dim lighting prevented any certain identification. Behind me, my backrest felt wooden and polished, and I frowned, running my fingers along it until they collided with canvas. Eagerly, I picked at the canvas until I felt the smoother texture of what seemed to be embossed letters, and the rougher edge of paper at the top.

Books, several shelves of them.

_I'm in a library, then, _I thought, groaning and shaking my head. That hardly helped. While it gave a vague sense of direction, it also made the situation even more confusing. After all, the librarians usually woke me up if I fell asleep that way I could get out before they locked up. Even outside of that, this was in no way familiar to me. After all, my library had a floor that was mostly carpet with some tiled spots, and while it smelled of ink and paper, never once had I noticed the smell of smoke and must that haunted this place.

_Not at home then. Where am I? _Realizing I was never going to get far sitting here, I pushed myself slowly to my feet, leaning against the shelves for support before walking around to clear out the ache in my limbs. All traces of the pain had almost entirely faded when I was interrupted by the soft sound of a door opening and closing.

_There's an escape then. I just have to try and follow the noise…_Eyebrows furrowing, I made as if to go forward in pursuit of the exit, but as soon as my foot touched down on the floorboard in front of me, the lights began to rise.

Quickly, I shot back behind the bookshelf, hoping to hide myself from view. One by one, the lights began to brighten again – at least, the ones several shelves over did. In my area of the library, all lamps – which, oddly enough, I could now see were gas lit – did not turn on, and no one made any move to turn them up. Frowning, I listened as the soft murmur of male voices that were clearly accented and too low to make out floated from the far side of the room. Then, in silence, I crept forward to search them out.

Not that it did me much good. When words first started coming together, they made little sense – something about curious museums and pirates, neither one possessing any connection to the other, unless I'd missed my guess. By the time I was close enough to make out every syllable, the sounds only dimmed by the space of one bookcase, the subject had changed entirely from pirates to war.

"Nations are striking at nations, each attacked marked by the use of highly advanced weaponry. These attacks are all the work of one man who calls himself the Fantom." That voice was smooth, cultured, very British and diplomatic. No doubt it belonged to someone with slicked back hair and a suit, someone who has no grasp of the concept of danger.

"Very operatic." Unamused, the second voice was far more gravelly, the accent light and implaceable. The air stirred briefly with the sound of papers shuffling, maybe some printed articles or security camera pictures, police sketches, and I had to fight the urge not to peel around my corner and reveal myself to the strangers by looking. "What's in it for him?"

"Profit," the first voice responded. "Those machines are his creation, the work of scientists he holds imprisoned." At his words, I flinched. _Imprisoned? _Why would anyone be imprisoning scientists? And how had I not heard of this on the news by now? Granted, my parents only rarely let me watch the news – and that was after they'd seen it – and had a tendency towards being incredibly pressing on my internet usage for news websites, but even at school, I usually heard some kind of murmurings at least about if there were new terrorist threats or something. But I had never once heard of any Fantom.

Frowning, I shook my head. Now wasn't the time to be questioning why I'd not heard of the latest nutjob in the world. I had to figure out where I was first, and then a way to get out without being noticed.

"There's one last chance to avert war. The leaders of Europe are to meet secretly in Venice." _Europe? Venice? Where _am _I? _Never in my life had I lived anywhere where Europe or Venice was of any relevance to me. And beyond that…If this meeting in Europe was secret, then what in heaven's name had I walked into now?

"And you think this Fantom will attack that conference?" There was a tapping sound on the paper as the second voice spoke up again.

"If he can find it. We need a team to stop him in Venice. This team consists of six members. You'll have four days."

"Four days to get to Venice? It's impossible." The gravelly tone of the second man's voice scraped against the air, rough with doubt.

"Let me worry about that." A third voice, belonging to someone who I hadn't heard enter the conversation sounded, a decidedly foreign tone coloring their words with a pleasant lilt.

"Well now." The papers shuffled again. "Extraordinary gentlemen indeed."

_A League of Extraordinary Gentlemen, _I thought suddenly, the words coming unbidden from somewhere I couldn't identify just as Cultured replied.

"One of them is late," he said, sounding entertained. "Harker, the chemist."

"Chemist, eh? Do we get to blow something up, then?" That voice was alarmingly close, almost sounding like it was just on the other side of the bookshelf, with a bright, too-cheerful accent that bounced along flippantly. Shocked, I flinched back a few feet in the pursuit of caution.

On the other side, I could hear Gravel's uncertainty. "My eyesight must be worse than I thought," he murmured, and I raised an eyebrow. Could they not see the fourth person either? That was odd, unless, of course, they were good at blending in or invisible like me.

"No, your eyesight's fine." The fourth voice was cheery, farther away now, and his sentence was punctuated by the slap of another sheaf of papers hitting the table.

A chair scraped back. Gravel again. "No games, M."

Cultured – _M?_ – held a smile in his voice. "Some time ago, a talented, albeit misguided man of science discovered the means to become invisible."

"Yes, I recall the tale, but didn't he die?" Gravel remained unamused and seemingly unconvinced.

"Well he did, but his process didn't." The fourth voice again. "You see, I stole it, and now here I stand for all to see."

By the silent doubt that hung in the air for a moment afterwards, I could tell that whatever was going on, it wasn't normal – as if the whole waking up in a foreign library populated by a British guy and who knew who else wasn't enough of a hint – and my eyebrows furrowed together. What was going on? Who were these people, and how could one of them be invisible?

_Time to investigate, _I told myself, setting my jaw with decision and turning to face my bookshelf. Looking around the corner would only risk discovery. But who was going to look up? The shelves were tall enough that I could climb and look over them to get an aerial view of what was happening. Satisfied with my own logic – or at least, trying to be – I grabbed for a fingerhold on the edge of the shelf and pulled myself up with a surprising ease.

For some reason, climbing gave the oddest sense of déjà vu, as if this were something I'd done every day of my life instead of just starting now. Temporarily bothered, I almost paused in my trek before the thought slipped away into the forgotten shadows of my mind, and I continued, balance unexpectedly steady and heart surprisingly unfazed by the potential risk of the situation.

As I climbed, the voices continued.

"Is this some parlor game?" Gravel demanded.

"_Believe it,_" the fourth ordered, his words followed shortly by the sound of someone catching themselves on something, and then some kind of lamp or coatrack tipping before steadying.

"Easy now, Allan." Four again. "I'm feeling a bit of a draft in my nether regions, and I must say, it's quite refreshing." I raised an eyebrow just as I topped the shelf, and peered over the edge to see a long, black coat float into the air and settle around what appeared to be a somewhat skinny pair of shoulders, the coat's arms extending out in what appeared to be a friendly gesture of welcome. "Allow me to introduce myself. Rodney Skinner, Gentleman Thief."

_No way, _I thought, pushing myself up entirely onto the top of the bookshelf, craning my neck forward to get a better view. The arms of the coat reached into a pocket, producing a silver tin, screwing the lid off, and dipping an invisible hand into the container, a limb which came back smeared with a substance similar to white facepaint. Three men in bizarrely anachronistic clothes watched, two with flabbergasted expressions on their face, one looking immensely amused.

Applying the paint to his face deftly, the coat continued speaking. "You see, I thought invisibility would be a boon to my work, but as you can see, it was my undoing." A mouth, hollow eye-shaped holes, and two eyes showed up above the coat where Skinner's head would be. "Once you're invisible, it's bloody hard to turn back." Ears now.

"We finally caught him," M interjected, a wry smile curving his words.

"And they'll provide an antidote. Well, that's _if _I'm a good boy." A stubbled chin and a nose appeared now to accent his smirk.

"And are you a good boy?"

Skinner titled his head in amused avoidance, an almost challenging tone to his appearance. A curious grin worked its way onto my face, and I pushed further forward, forgetting exactly where I was and nearly pitching off of the ledge. Reflexively, I grabbed the shelf I was on, hand brushing against a loose tome that was already perched precariously on the edge. As I watched in horror, it tilted forward, then fell completely out of reach, tumbling to the floor as Skinner responded. "I guess you'll find out now-"

The book hit the ground with a slap.

"-won't you?" The invisible man finished his interrupted thought, capping his tin and shoving it in a pocket as he stepped away from the others. "What the hell was that?" he asked, now focused on the shelf along with M, a man in a dark blue turban and traditional Indian dress, and Allan – who I kept wanting to call Quatermain, for some reason - looking over to the source of the noise and following the book's trajectory up, right to where I was sitting, just before my shock broke and I started scooting backwards.

"Up there!" Allan said, pointing, and I panicked, scurrying to my feet and jumping on a whim to the next shelf, some ten feet away. Catching myself on the edge, I quickly dropped myself down a few shelves and then let go, hitting the ground and rolling to my feet with an agility that felt far more like that of an experienced freerunner than that of a seventeen year old bookworm. All body parts still attached quite firmly, I broke into a run.

Quickly, I sprinted down the current row of books, taking a sudden left on a whim once I reached the end. Feet pounding against the wood and carpet of the floor as M chased behind me, I bolted until I reached the tabled area where I'd woken earlier, complete with chairs set up around it. At the sight of the suited figure gaining on me, I hurried forward, pulling a chair down behind me in hopes of deterring him.

I'd almost reached the wall by the time I realized that there was no exit this way and turned sharply around, heading back where I'd come from and hoping none of the men had noticed. If I could just get back to where they were meeting, there had to at least be a window I could get out through, some form of escape. But my attempt at diversion only bought me a few seconds – nowhere near enough for a safety cushion. I'd have to play it by ear and hope for the best. If all else failed, maybe I could try and outmaneuver them until they were worn out…Unless the other League member was to show up, at least.

_Worth a shot, _I thought, pushing myself to hurry up, go just a little faster as I burst into the tabled area where the League had been meeting, blowing right past a woman in very proper Victorian dress. The woman gave me a strange look, backing up in confusion as I passed her and paused, scanning quickly for my exit before seeing it in the form of a pane of glass that looked out into a hallway, situated just overhead two heavy wooden doors that stood sentry at one end of the room. If I could just get out of this room, then I could run until I reached an actual escape for good, if I didn't spear myself on glass during transit.

Setting my jaw, I ran towards a table that was on the right side of the door, jumping onto the top of the desk and springing up, fingers hungrily reaching for the edge of the glass pane so I could pull myself up and roll through it…

I didn't even see it when Allan came bowling in from the side, grabbing my leg just as I jumped and pulling me sharply back down onto the wood of the table.

My head connected with a loud crack, and I groaned a little as the white haired man pulled me back and up. In my mind, an oddly familiar, desperate urge screamed at me to struggle and try to escape, and I didn't bother doubting its instructions, kicking and fighting until I finally broke free of Allan's hold and stumbled to the floor and rolled to a sitting position, backing up frantically until I hit a wall and could go no further.

Above me, like wild dogs closing in on prey, the four men and the woman loomed.

"Who are you?" Allan asked, eyes fixed harshly on me, demanding response. "Are you one of the Fantom's men?"

Desperately, I shook my head. _I'd never even heard of him until five minutes ago, _I thought, though the words remained lodged in my throat.

"Then who are you?" Once more, I shook my head.

The man in the blue gave me an equally stern look, pinning me down with dark brown eyes. "Do you not have a name?" he asked, and I nodded this time, quickly spelling it out on my forearm, hands shaking and moving so fast even I could barely read it.

"Can't you just tell us?" Allan's voice was dark with irritation, and I shook my head. "Why not?" A shrug. How should I know why I can't speak?

"How long were you there?" This time, it was Skinner that spoke. "Here I thought I was good at blending in, but no one even noticed you until you knocked that book off, and you're not see through."

_Maybe not, _I thought, _but I'm close enough to count as see through, even when I'm not hiding. _I gave an uncertain shrug. I wasn't sure about that either, honestly. Come to think of it, all I was sure of was that this was a library, that I was Riley Carson and still mute, and that of the people gathered around me, none of them seemed amused.

"Do you have any answers?" The woman who I ran past earlier spoke then, voice edged with a cool sharpness. I shook my head, and one side of her mouth curled up in disgust.

"What I wish to know," M announced, "is exactly how such an urchin got into this establishment and why they were listening to our conversation." His words were accusatory, unforgiving, and he stared me down with a harsh gaze that screamed of condemnation, a sentence I couldn't hope to fight. Once again, I shook my head. _I don't know. I just wanted to know where I was. I don't know how I got here._

"Dandy question, M. But I don't think she's inclined to answering." Skinner looked at me with translucent eyes that rendered his expression unreadable. "Where'd you learn to move like that? Gave us a run for our money, and you jumped across those shelves like they were nothing. Have you always been able to do that?"

I wasn't sure about that either, but that feeling…It felt far too natural to just be the only time I'd done something like that. It felt far too easy, too familiar. Against my will, I nodded.

The invisible man nodded receptively, looking to the others. A moment passed in silence before the man in blue spoke again, addressing the others. "What should we do with her?"

M's response was fast and harsh. "What does one always do with gutter trash? Put her back on the streets where she came from, and let the rest of London trip over her. You've no use for a silent girl in indecent clothing." I almost looked down at my clothes to verify their modesty before something more pressing struck me – what was I doing in London? Before I could try and find a way to ask, the conversation had already passed on.

"Or we could take her on our quest." The blue man delivered the request as if it were perfectly reasonable, and I almost choked on my own breath. The rest of the gathered group met it with similar reactions.

"For what reason would we bring her, Captain?" Allan asked.

"She would be unlikely to betray us, and she could be a valuable asset, Mr. Quatermain," was the even reply.

"You saw how fast she can run – she'd make a nice addition to this little crew. And maybe she can sneak around a bit if we need her to," Skinner put in, and I clenched my fists slightly without my permission.

"She's a girl, Skinner, not a warrior. How do you know she can even defend herself?" Allan's – or Quatermain's, I supposed, since it seemed my instinct to call him that earlier was right – voice was laced with doubt and a void where conviction might have been, if he'd had any.

"She seemed to do alright earlier." Skinner again. Why was he defending me?

"And she certainly had you running, Mr. Q." That one was the woman with the Victorian dress.

"And who are you, exactly?" Quatermain's voice screamed of indignance.

"Wilhelmina Harker," the woman said. "The League's fifth member."

"But you're a woman," Quatermain protested.

"I'm surprised you'd noticed, Mr. Q, since you appear to struggle with staying on the topic. We were discussing the manner of what to do with the girl?" The jagged edge of her words sliced into the tense air.

"Then by all means," the white haired man gestured. "Discuss away."

There was a moment's silence, a silence during which no one consulted me, or asked if I was interested in this quest, or tried to see if I even had any thoughts at all – which I did. I was thinking that this was crazy, that I was mute and could run and jump but couldn't remember why, and that there was a nagging feeling that kept hinting to me at what I should call these people and this group I'd never met before and it wouldn't go away. I was thinking that I was horrifically confused, completely lost, and caught between total horror and eager excitement at the prospect of what they were suggesting, and that I'd like more than twenty seconds to weigh my losses.

But no one asked me what I was thinking. After all, just because they couldn't say their thoughts, mute girls couldn't speak as far as the world was concerned.

It was a good thing that I was used to it by now.

The blue man, the Captain, cast a long, steady glance at the look, which was half populated by people with blank, unreadable expressions, and half populated by the dark glares of Quatermain and M. "I believe it would be in our best interest for her to join us on this exploit," he said evenly, giving a small nod.

Mina said nothing, but gave a small nod. Skinner, on the other hand, gave a crazed, half smirk. "Who said that we don't have room for one more misfit?"

Three to one. Even counting M, I was still in for the ride.

"Welcome to the Gathering of Misfits," Skinner said, extending a hand towards me – or at least, I thought it was a hand, though all I could see was the floating coat sleeve. Nodding gratefully, I took the proffered appendage and stood, brushing myself off.

"Now then," the invisible man began, "Let's try again. You have a name? I'd hate to come up with one for you."

I nodded, heading over to the table and spelling it out again. Skinner read over my shoulder, mumbling the letters as I wrote them. "Riley?" he asked. I nodded. "Right funny name for a girl."

From behind us, M's voice rang out again. "Now, with all our unexpected introductions made, I believe we have more desperate matters?" His words made a path straight to the doorway leading to the outside. "There's still two more members to recruit. The clock hands turn, gentlemen."

Skinner cocked his head to the side. "Kicking us out already? A moment ago, it was sherry and giggles." Shaking his head and flipping up his coat collar, he turned, stalking towards the door, the other members of the League starting to follow after him.

I hesitated for one more moment, staying in the library. The books beckoned me to stay with them, to stay safe. And yet ahead of me, the members of the new story I'd been drafted into were already filing out into the English rain, waiting for me to join them so that we could save the world from a man called the Fantom. Right in the middle of it all, I stood, torn between wanting to run after the others and run in the other direction.

From in the doorway, the Captain called back. "We must hurry."

Tightening my fists, I nodded and with no other option, I followed the League into the rain.


End file.
